Red Cycles
by CoffeeMarbles
Summary: It wasn't his fault that the life he thought he wanted was crumbling before him. It wasn't his fault he felt anxious whenever he went to work. It was that redhead, that redhead's fault that he'd stumbled into a new red cycle. Axel/Roxas


A/N:  
Whoa, my first fan fiction, and it feels rather exciting o like whoaaaaaa.  
This fiction was inspired by an artpiece by Nijuuni on DeviantArt, www . nijuuni . deviantart . com / art / Akuroku - Just - Isn - t - My - Day - 77618261  
It's rather long for a oneshot, but I'm happy with how it turned out )  
Please Review!

Pairing: Axel/Roxas  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except this story.

Red Cycles

"I'm morning host Ziggy Barr, wishing Double-T a gooood morning! Currently eight-oh-three, with forecast report of a high of fifteen degrees today—hah, as if—the weather's not looking all too great this Friday or for the next week either—"

The parroting clock gave a sharp _crack _when it hit the hardwood floor, the voice of dear Ziggy shriveling into an incomprehensible whistle before snapping off completely. I groaned, slowly recoiling my flailing hand from the nightstand.

My God, is the night over already? Don't you hate that feeling? That feeling that you woke up just as you fell asleep? It never feels like enough. Now, it's another morning, another Friday, another work day. Even though today is a Friday, the goddamn _pain_ of getting up to get to the damned office downtown is so damn disheartening enough to make any Friday feel like a Monday—

Well, dammit, it's another work day. A day, minimum eight hours, surrounded by suit-and-tie clad drones scurrying back and forth from meeting room to meeting room. Another day, spent at the office, with the high chance of seeing _him_ again.

A different feeling of apprehension began pooling at the pit of my stomach, which was, by the way, doing fantastic back flips at the moment.

Him.

It took me a while to realize I hadn't moved from the mattress, completely disregarding the fact that I had shoved my alarm clock to its death about—what, fifteen minutes ago? The bed's far too warm and comfy for its own good. I mean, my legs have their own niches in the mattress already. I laid there staring blankly up at the rippled ceiling, listening to the sounds of my soft breathing and that of the slumbering woman beside me.

I turned to her, and the uncomfortable feeling throbbed harder, practically kicking me in the guts. Her face was so soft, so fair, so calm, and so…

…naïve. So blissfully ignorant.

I reached out with a hand, gently brushing her blonde bangs away from her sleeping visage. God, why does she have to look so much like…an angel like this? She stirred, and slender arms wrapped themselves around my body.

"Morning, Honey." She mumbled into my shoulder, sheets ruffling as she nuzzled into my frame, attempting to fall back asleep. If only I could do that right now.

"Morning, Nam." A long sigh slithered pass my moving lips, and a twitching arm hooked over her warm shoulders. My other hand ran a shaky trail through my messy hair as I tried to take in the probability of my boss believing a half-assed excuse regarding my sudden absence today. No, probably none. It didn't work the last dozen times.

No, why the hell did it work that way? It's come to this, hasn't it? Years of studying, of paying college fees, years of doing what I enjoy, years spent on projects and clerical labor and finally, _finally _moving out of a paltry cubical, years of working under a corporate tyrant, years of _going to work with a fucking I-love-my-job grin—_It's all been wasted. I'm afraid of work, ever since that day, that goddamn day_, that one day. _Why can't I just tell…why can't I just report it? Why am I—shit, why the hell am I _running_ and _hiding_—

"Roxas, don't you have to go to work?"

I peered down at Naminé, my eyes rolling over her brow, her nose, chin, shoulders, hair, and her hand that was rubbing the lingering sleep from her eyes. Satisfied, her hand fell from her face, and my eyes flicked over to stare intensely into the wall.

No, I don't think I'll go to work today. I know, let's play the Freaky Friday game, where _you_ go to work in my place, and I'll stay home every Friday and watch my soaps.

"Um, Yeah." I mumbled. So I'm the kind of guy who never listens what my head as to say. Great. I unhooked my arm from her neck and threw the comforter off my stiff legs, and _damn_ was the room cold. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, nearly stepping right into the mess that was my alarm clock. The black casing had split in two, and the screen was a dim maroon, no vivid red numbers to indicate the time. Damn these cheap clocks.

I held back a groan and bent down to pick up the scraps, shuffling my feet over the cold wooden boards over to the trashcan next to the work desk. A yawn escaped me, which suddenly turned on my optical faucets, my sight coming into sudden focus with the moisture. Hanging on the pale wall just above the computer was my red calendar, half the page crossed out with crimson crosses and circles. I let my eyes travel to the next date in the cycle.

Oh, well isn't that just nice? Friday the thirteenth. Sounds like a fabulous day already.

It didn't really help that I was secretly a superstitious nut. I always managed to find an excuse to cross the road to the other sidewalk when I see a painter or construction worker climbing up a step-ladder to reach the awning of a store or something. And I hate black cats. So far, no mirrors have been broken.

I swallowed a loud cuss when I heard Naminé gave a soft yawn from behind me, her tender arms curling around my bare torso. Jesus, everything feels so cold.

"Friday the thirteenth, eh?" She pressed her face into my back. I could feel a tiny grin from her lips. "Better make sure you bring two horseshoes and a four leaf clover with you to work, honey."

She's kidding of course, but at this point, I really wish I had said items in my possession. Maybe, then, I could survive this Friday and make it home in one piece—

--and with all my clothes on.

Well, shit.

"I'm going to shower." Her arms plucked away from my stomach. I gave my scalp a small scratch while padding over to the washroom.

The white washed room lit up with the flick of the switch, and damn my irises for not constricting faster. Nearly squeezing the remaining sleep from my eyes, I fumbled my way over to the fallow counter. Never walk around with your eyes close, because my thigh just decided to scrap itself into the protruding knobs from beneath the sink. After recovering from the pain bruising into my thigh, I pressed my palms onto the sides of the vessel sink, lifting my head to peer into the mirror. I cringed.

The person staring back looked horrible, the kind of horrible that requires perhaps a paper bag. He looked so tired, so exhausted. He had—jesus, those look pretty bad—bags beneath his eyes. For as long as I knew, he didn't and shouldn't have them. And, funny, I'm almost positive that the man in the mirror would always be smiling, feverishly checking himself out in the morning. I could have called him a narcissist, but I guess that could be said without words. Now, I could hardly recognize this stranger. His lips were pale, parted, drooped down into a quivering frown, and his eyes which used to be so bright like sapphire had dulled down to a stormy blue, thunder roaring in a questioning gaze.

What was utterly scary is the fact that I know first hand why this guy looked in need of help. And I've done nothing to help. Good Samaritan award goes to me.

"Ugh, I'm such a freak." Cold water—cold water will help. I turned the knob, and the sink gurgles with the sudden release of cold water. Ice cold waves crashed into my contorted face over and over again, drops bouncing off my clammy skin as I continued to shake myself from my helpless state. I probably repeated the action about twenty times, and would have most likely kept going if it weren't for the sudden outburst from the bedroom.

"Roxas! What happened to the clock? It's eight forty-five already—you're gonna be late!"

Yeah. A fabulous day already.

* * *

The coffee pot smashed into a thousand goddamn shards.

My toaster decided that I would prefer some extra burnt toast for breakfast.

The newspaper was torn to shreds by the neighbor's early-waking dog. Old Man Mouse explained his little "Pluto" was just itchin' for some fiber.

I raked a hand viciously through my unruly damp hair, mussing it up even more. If someone tried to convince me that Friday the thirteenth was nothing but an old joke, I'd be more than ready to punch him—or her even—square in the face. Try telling that to the hairdryer, because it just so happened that it decided to take a very long nap after the plug snapped after being yanked out from bathroom drawer. Yeah, coincidence my _ass_.

If this kind of shit was happening to me at home, then there's going to be forecasts of hurricanes, tornados, droughts, and the ten plagues outside the door. Not to mention 90 percent probability of office ra—

"You know, I really don't want to go to work today." The words left me before I could do anything. Oh, damn it, my good suit is getting wrinkled between my fisting hands.

"Are you okay, Roxas?" Naminé asked.

_No. I'm not okay. I'm a nervous wreck—a train wreck just waiting to happen. Actually that's a goddamn lie; I'm in a better state than you. And it's my fault, what from all that I've been hiding from you—_

"Yes, I'm fine, I just—I don't want—" A pair of soft lips found mine before I could finish my sentence. Okay, well, this wasn't really the kind of sympathy I was looking for…

"Oh, Roxas, you're just getting the Friday syndrome. You know, last day of the week, you've been working you ass off lately—oh, Roxas, you're getting Panda eyes; you should really stop staying up working—and all you wanna do now is just relaaax, am I right? Don't worry—the day will be over in a few hours, and you'll have Saturday and Sunday to sleep in."

Naminé has that grin, that sweet, soothing _smile_ on her face as she said that. I felt something pierce right into my chest as I continued to stare incredulously into her sincere eyes.

She's so sweet. She cares so much. _Why can't she see there's something wrong!_

"You're just overworked, silly—"

"No," again, these damn words just keep walking straight out of my flapping beak, "it's…not that…there's um…" My hands started to slick up with a nervous sweat. I could almost feel my briefcase slip in my grip.

Her blue orbs began to widen in curiosity—or was that fear? Not the best thing to have said. Morning drama sucks ass.

"Why? Roxas, sweetie, what's wrong?" Her hand's so warm, warm like a mother's touch on my cheek. "Is something bothering you at the office?"

Tell her. Tell her. Stop lying.

"No, nothing. I was just saying that…I'll miss you so much." I breathed out, unblinking.

I'm such a moron.

Again, she doesn't dive into a double take. Instead, she continued to wear that smile on her face. "Roxaaas, you big baby—I'm not going anywhere. Now get to work, you romantic fool; you're already ten minutes late. I'll make sure to make your evening fantastic when you get back."

She pressed her mouth to mine again, this time giving my bottom lip a teasing bite. I assure you that my skills in kissing are commendable, but nothing really wants to cooperate with the current scenario at the moment. So my lips are there, unmoving. My god, if I didn't know better, I could be pitying Naminé for kissing a fish first thing in the morning. She nibbles a little longer before pulling away. I caught a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but it dissipated with a flash of her grin, her hands pushing against my back and shoving me out the door.

I nearly trip down the small set of stairs from the momentum. After catching my balance, I cautiously make my way to the blue car next to the house. I climbed into the diver's seat, shoving the key into the ignition and twisting it until the car roared up to life. Too bad it didn't.

"Uh, Nam? What the hell is up with the car?"

The whitewashed door opened up again, and she stepped out of the house. Well now, her little grimace definitely doesn't promise candy or a working automobile.

"Sorry, Honey! I forgot to tell you that the car needs a desperate tune up—I am going to have Riku come over today and work on it. You're—you're going to have to bus to work today, sorryyyy!"

Great. Just great.

* * *

"Mr. Laight, you're forty minutes late. Care to explain?"

Because the stars decided to screw me over one, and Mercury wants to butt rape me.

"I had to bus, and there was horrible traffic today, sir," I tried sheepishly, my hold on my briefcase handle clenching into a death grip, "I was stuck in grid lock at Kingdom and Heart. It must be the weather."

"Don't blame the weather for your incompetence as a worker." The silver-haired man snapped in his sonorous voice. My goodness, I don't remember his room feeling this cold. His amber eyes was driving right into mine with the force of ten jackhammers. "My organization runs only on the best and more efficient workers. You're lucky you still have your office, Laight. I'm not afraid to eliminate workers, I hope you remember. You get rid of one, there's always another to fill the gap."

"Yes sir." I replied dryly, hoping that the ground would just swallow me up. C'mon, open up, _open uuup._

"I have three reports I'll have Saix deliver to you after five o'clock."

Great. I guess I'm not going home for a home cooked meal.

"I'm looking for efficiency, boy. I don't want to see them in my inbox forty minutes late."

"Yes sir." I turned on my business loafers, getting the hell out of your Majesty's office before an order to spin straw into gold could be demanded. The desire to slam the door was so damn _big,_ but damn, I just have to _suck it up, _now, don't I? My shoes slapped the carpet floor loudly as I weaved through the maze of quiet cubicles, turning into a corridor that led to my corner office. I slowed my steps when I heard another set of footsteps head down the quiet hallway.

And lo behold, the power of Friday the thirteenth. Just five more steps, _five more_, dammit, and I could have locked myself away until clock-out. I stopped a few feet away from my little hideout, rather hesitant to turn around and greet the one person who would tear my entire day apart at the seams.

"Hey Roxy."

Green. Acid green eyes, which upturned into a mischievous dance.

"Looking really good today—you should really do this bed-head style more. It's kinda sexy."

"I told you not to call me Roxy, Axel." I grumbled, turning on my heels again, attempting to move into the seclusion of my own office. Again, it's always _attempting_, but never _accomplishing_.

A strong hand suddenly wrapped itself around my wrist, painfully jerking me backwards. Fuck his long arms. Fuck _him_.

"What's wrong,_ Roxas_? Friday the thirteenth doing a doozey on you?" He smirked, his goddamn hand still holding onto mine. Funny how his hands just seem to burn into my skin, like someone dripping lava over my forearms. "I can change your luck you know." That's when everything decides to take the first step off the suspension bridge—whoa waitasec, I don't remember his face being so close to mine. Too close, waaay too close—his smirk…That's when knowledge of space and time promptly decided to leave the vicinity. There's nothing now, nothing but a coy face, piercing emeralds, and a wild red mane pulled back into a tail here with me.

"Mm, Roxy, you seem a little down today, what's wrong, hmm? Xemnas not believing your little traffic issues again?"

"What…do you care?" My words slithered passed my lips, dripping onto the floor without a care. I paid no attention to the breathy words that were slipping out—I found myself focused onto the pair of greens in front of me.

It always starts off like this. A friendly hello, a little too friendly exchange of morning traffic reports, and a far too friendly meeting of—

Skin—so warm, warm, _warm—_

I flinched and pulled back sharply, managing to suppress the squeak. His lips had _moved s_oftly against mine. I smacked him hard in the leg with my black briefcase—hey, if women do it with purses, I don't see a problem with briefcases. I could feel the skin around my mouth pulled back into a dog-snarl, and damn, did someone just jack up the thermometer or what?

"Get away from me." Wow, did I just _growl_?

Again, this man doesn't seem fazed by anything. Even when he was softly rubbing his leg, his eyes were still prancing around like ballerinas, giving me a sly look-over.

"Looks like princess _is_ having a bad day." He grinned, his wide mouth pulled up into a wolfish simper. White teeth, white, straight teeth…

We remained silent for a while. Me? Honestly, I'm not really sure how to put an end to this morning wake up call. Finally, before I decided to smack him again with my bag, he snorted and casually walked towards the boss's lair, giving me a limp hand wave over his shoulder before disappearing around a cubicle. Loose spikes of crimson continued to bob as he sauntered off.

I huffed and stomped my way into my office, almost scratching the almond colored door with my key when I missed the keyhole.

_This is all __**his**__ fault._

I could feel my cheeks ignite themselves. My lips were still prickling. Finally, my shaking hands decided to cooperate and directed the key, shoving it into the slot.

_His fault. His fault._

The door unlocked, and I nearly threw my briefcase and myself into the room. And a slam—I give the door a well-deserved slam.

_Hisfaulthisfaulthisfault HIS FAULT! IT'S HIS FAULT EVERYTHING IS BEING STIRRED IN THE SHIT VAT RIGHT NOW! HIS FAULT!_

I leaned back against the wall. And I sobbed. Oh shit, did I just _sob_? I tried closing my eyes, hearing the buzz of workers beyond my door and the honks of cars still trapped in the congestion outside.

No avail. His bright green eyes and stupid tattoos inhabited the back of my eyelids too.

I hate him. So much.

* * *

Damn pens. Damn ink. Damn writing utensils.

I hucked the pen I was using across the empty office, rather amused to hear it smack hard against the cemented wall and clatter on the carpet floor to join two others. Why can't pens be loaded with more goddamn ink!

I looked down at my page. The damn small black print was no longer characters of the English alphabet, but rather a troop of ants, crawling along the snowy surface. Before long, the stupid print began to actually _dance_ on the page. A long, dramatic sigh left my lips and I decided that it was time for lunch. I've had enough hallucinations for the morning.

I pressed the screen of my blue laptop down, and reinserted it into its puffy casing. Well, at least my laptop gets to sleep away the afternoon.

I pulled out a half-empty bottle of water and a zip-lock bag holding my ham-and-cheese sandwich. The poor thing had been squished under the weight of things in my briefcase, and now looked more like a sad looking muffin. It kinda reminds me of myself.

I shuffled back in my chair, pulling on my navy blue jacket before heading out the door. The keys in my pocket jangled as I turned to lock the small room.

So, how should I avoid human contact today? Cafeteria is out of the question. The courtyard? Maybe, but Marluxia would most likely be there, inspecting the newly planted rosebushes. Across the street? Forget that, too far away. Fine, rooftop it is. And maybe with a little luck, he won't be there.

After my amazing processing skills pumped out a decision, I strolled over to the stairwell at the end of the hall, eager to devour my lunch in peace.

Maybe it was just fate being a bitch and deciding that "Roxas really needs to suffer today" would be a very fun game to play, or maybe I wasn't all cracked up about Friday the thirteenth. Whatever it was, it sure deserved a punt in the nads for throwing at me the one thing I didn't want to see for the rest of the day.

"You heading out for lunch, Roxas?"

My hand suddenly slicked up on the metal door handle. Gross. I remained facing the obnoxiously blue door, peering through the narrow window to the empty stairwell. So close.

"Yes, _by myself_." I can really be a bitchy ass if I wanted to. And right now, I want to.

"So I guess you won't mind a lunch partner, Roxy?" What is up with this guy? Selective hearing, or not listening at all? Footsteps started drawing themselves my way, and I had to fight the biggest urge to turn around and throw my hard water bottle right into his face. Before I could finish deciding what I should do, a strong hand grasped my shoulder and pushed me through the door.

Why was this goddamn building so hideously white and pale? I could hardly orient myself when I fell through the doorway, because everything was so _damn white_.

Finally, with some brute force (me on the receiving end, unfortunately), I decided that I was against the wall, standing up right, looking straight into the chest of my captor. To Hell with his smirk.

"Get the hell away from me." I mumbled, not meeting his eyes. God knows what would happen if I look into them. I might turn into stone, or something. Actually, that might not be a bad idea.

"But I wanna have lunch with you." He teased, placing his hands on either side of my head and lowering his body so we were at eye-level. The wall suddenly became a very interesting subject, so I decided to examine it. "We _always_ have lunch together."

No we don't. _You_ want to have lunch with me. _I_ want to have lunch with me. There's just one person too many in this little cycle of yours. "This isn't lunch we're having. This is a waste of time." I shot back. "It's not lunch when I'm not eating anything, so get away from—"

My retort decides to all of a sudden leap out the window when a pair of scorching hot lips attached themselves to my neck. Then they started nibbling. Both my hands flew up to grasp his upper arms. When and where I dropped my lunch, I wasn't even sure.

"Axel!" I tried pushing him back, I really did, but it didn't help that he was about a foot taller than me and his shoulders were broader than mine. I guess he took my defensive actions as a call for more, because his mouth really starting to go at my neck, moving up and down and resting to suck the skin at the crook of my shoulder. "Ax—aa-aaah!"

I wasn't really sure when my arms hand wound themselves around the guy's neck, or when my hands decided to fist themselves into the mess of a ponytail. I pressed myself hard against the cold wall, just to put more room between this freak and I, and tried to push him away. My shaking hands were so weak, so weak.

"Axel…" So was my voice. It was getting so weak. "Axel, please—" A groan escaped my throat when his teeth decided to chew hungrily on my jugular, "s-stop! Stopstopstop STOP!"

To my surprise, he did. He pulled back, licking his lips, eyes casted in a wicked shadow under the fluorescent light.

"Will you let me have lunch with you if I stop?"

A fiend. This redhead is such a damned _fiend_. I stared up at his glowing eyes. A part of me was hoping to turn to stone. Maybe then he'd leave me alone.

Or maybe then I'll finally be able to ignore the stirring feeling that was churning in the pit of my stomach.

"I'm not really sure if I want to have lunch anymore." I sneered, feeling a bitter smile crawl up my face. "I'll just head back to the office and drown myself in work. Or go home."

"Oh no, you're having lunch with me, piss brat." He bent over, sweeping up my misplaced sandwich and water bottle in those long fingers of his. He straightened himself, and once again I felt his towering figure cast a spell on my knees. I grumbled, shoving my hands in my pant pocket, allowing him to drape his lanky arm around my shoulder as he started to jabber away at something as we climbed the stairs.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

"Back downstairs. I'm going to eat my sandwich in the cafeteria."

"Why? We're here already."

"Because Zeus is pissing down on us right now, and Thor plans to shoot a few of his bolts, you dip-fucking-shit."

I turned away from the ignorant redhead to re-examine the wet scene before us. The weatherman hadn't been lying this morning. It was pissing buckets, and I was surprised that I didn't notice it when I was in the office. I turned around, trying to head back down when Axel's fast reflexes decided to screw me over once again.

"There's dry space over there, Roxas. It's wide enough and dry enough for us to sit down and eat." He didn't let go of my collar, and pulled me out of the door and into the cold afternoon air.

"I'm going to get wet! I hate getting wet, you dick!" I whined, feeling the stray drops hit my hair and shivering skin. I really didn't feel good with this. I hate rain, I hate the cold, and I hate eating lunch in my suit in the rain and cold. Then a rather obese droplet decided to land right into my eye.

"So eat lunch faster." He chuckled, almost pulling me against the wall as he steered the two of us into a dry area. The redhead pushed me down, and I landed on my ass on the cold cement floor. He followed my descent, sitting next to me and straightening out his legs a bit on the rain-sheltered floor. A soft package landed on my stomach as I struggled to sit up. I picked it up, and unzipped the confined foodstuff from the bag.

As my hands worked to unwrap the clear plastic binding my deformed lunch, I took a look at Axel, who was just sitting there without a bite to eat.

"I thought you said you wanted to have _lunch_ with me." My eyes narrowed into slits when he turned to me with one of his stupid smirks. Saw them way too often. I hated those smirks so much.

"I already ate." He said simply, shrugging, turning his head to stare into the rainy curtain a few feet away from us.

I huffed, taking an appreciative bite into the clammy sandwich. The black forest ham and havarti cheese melded together with my dry mouth, chunks of saliva-sogged grain bread sticking to my palette. I chewed slowly, rather comfortable with the long silence that had stretched between us. I peeked over at the tall man sitting beside me, back resting against the wall behind us as he stared straight out into the distance. Even with his blank face, I noticed his lips just slightly upturned in an amused grin.

I snorted quietly, and bit into my sandwich again, making it disappear bite by bite as the time clicked away.

This was how it was supposed to be. Just this, nothing else.

I don't even remember correctly _when_ things started changing. For the first few months since his appearance at the office, he was always smiling, laughing, goofing off and pissing off the other worker drones that walked around the building. Then we befriended one another, and we soon started taking turns trying to snoop around Saïx's desk to find the rumored scandalous love note that was supposedly sent by the big boss. We joked off together, ate lunch together, went to have an after-work coffee together, I guess almost every day. I even let him steal my lunch and buy me an apologetic ice cream afterwards.

That's how it was supposed to be.

Not like this.

The day—I don't remember when—he decided it would be funny to lock us up in the washroom with his own intentions, that's when the shit hit the fan. And I was married to Naminé for about eight months around that time.

My mouth suddenly ran dry, and the bite I had in my mouth decided to blow up about twice the volume, almost choking me. I took a long drink from my water bottle, almost downing the entire thing.

I never questioned why he did it when he did. Even after that, I didn't ask him why he had done it. I just let it slip. I let it slip—every single time. I had walked into a vicious cycle out of my norm, and didn't try to get out. Why? I don't know why. And it always pissed me off. After that one goddamn day, my mood change, my work habits changed, the way I looked at _my friend_ changed. I was angry, frustrated, and I always went home, back into the awaiting arms of my smiling wife, carrying with me a goddamn _lie_. Maybe it was for the better. I mean, no woman would really want to hear that their husband had been pressed up against the wall while playing tonsil tennis, and ended up getting sucked off by a _male _coworker in a washroom stall.

And I didn't do anything to stop him.

Yeah. The shit hit the fan and was still spinning. After that particular incident, I could no longer crack a joke or watch him dig around in the secretary's desk without feeling a heavy sexual tension building up. That's when work became a chore when it used to be _fun._ That's when getting up at eight every morning, driving twenty minutes downtown and walking into a glassy building suddenly turned into a trip into a haunted house that you see in those stupid reality shows on television. You never know when something is going to come up and maybe try to possess you. That's when you start to go a bit insane, always checking over your shoulder and end up throwing yourself into another hallway because you think you saw a redheaded ghost heading your way. The only thing holding the few slivers of my sanity together was the fact that he hasn't tried to fuck me into a wall. It was just a one-sided tomfoolery. Just one-sided. That's what I told myself.

"You finished eating yet, Roxas?"

A husky voice brought my head back to the present. It was still raining.

"No, but I don't really feel like eating the rest." I mumbled dumbly, staring at my crossed legs. "You can have it if you want."

"No, I ate lunch already—I'm looking for some dessert now." His voice changed, but I could barely hear over the thundering rain.

"It's too cold to get ice cream." I snarled bitterly. My eyebrows burrowing to the center of my face as I turned to face him. My defiant look faltered when I realized he had moved rather close into my space.

"I'm not looking for ice cream," he licked his lips, and my eyes automatically fell, catching onto the crooked smile.

"Too bad then," well damn my cracking voice, "you're not getting any dessert." I crawled backwards, slowly, my eyes never leaving the smug pair in front of me. My squashed sandwich was held in a tight grip as some sort of sad looking weapon.

"That's what _you _think. I think you're hiding some candy from me, Roxy." I crawled back—he crawled forwards. You think he'd take the hint.

"What? You're gonna come search me for it?"

Oh. That's why. That did not just leave my mouth.

"Mmm, was that an invitation into the candy store, blondie?" He licked his lips, and my attention went elsewhere. Aw shit, something wet's hitting my neck—

"You're going to get yourself weeet, Rox." Green eyes left mine to look over my shoulder. No more awnings of sorts. I was trapped between a wall of cascading water and this—this hungry guy looking for _candy._

Shit.

There was a sharp pull on my neck—the idiot just—goddamn he just pulled me by my _tie_. He gave another rough pull, and I fell forwards, right into his lap.

He didn't leave me any time to compose myself and get the hell out of there. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up towards him. Our mouths smashed together in a cacophony of breathy huffs and wet sucks. I felt my sandwich fall out of my hand as my mind tried to figure out a route out of my predicament. Too slow.

I felt a wet tongue glide along my bottom lip. I squeezed my eyes shut, and stamped my mouth tightly closed.

_I don't want this, I don't want this!_

I was sure I wasn't lying to myself, so damn _sure_, but my body said otherwise. A large hand came up to nestle into my blonde hair. Long fingers suddenly wrapped themselves in my tresses and gave a sharp tug. A startled gasp left me, and a prickling pain spread over my scalp, but I immediately regretted my weak will when the hot muscle plunged into my now-accessible mouth.

Only when my back started to cool down did I realize this man had twisted our bodies around, pushing me to the floor, looming over me like a lion would a dead gazelle—his meal.

His tongue searched my open mouth, and it was all I could do to not make any noises as he continued to plow my throat.

"Nnngh!"

Well shit, that wasn't me, was it?

A hand rubbed harshly down my inner thighs, and back up again, and I heard the moaning sound again in time with his large moving hand. Yeah, I guess that was me.

Every movement he made, every inch of contact he had with my body, I felt light up in forest-fire intensity. My legs started to feel like it was being set on fire as his goddamn stroking hand began to massage my groin, his thumbs rubbing small circles at the junction between my hip and thigh, _so damn close to my cock_.

"A-Ax--!" I broke the wet kiss and let out the hiss that I had been holding back.

His mouth moved down to my throat, gently scraping pearly teeth on my Adam's Apple. Fireworks started exploding from behind my closed eyes.

"Mmm, I like this kinda candy." Oh, no, he did not just take the candy thing again and try to seduce me with it. Not going to work. Nope. "I wonder if you have more…"

Jesus, when did that nervous giggle leave me? It didn't have much of a life though. It kinda melded into a needy whine when I felt cold air sift over my stomach, quickly replaced by a warm—no, not warm, _fiery_ hand. Nimble fingers began trekking up, up, up, finding a nipple to settle onto and _pinch_.

I heard my breathy scream fill the rooftop, feeling the stony floor leave my spine. Or maybe it was my spine that left the stony floor. Whatever it was, my back was attempting to mimic the Arch of Constantine.

"W-wait a sec! Just a sec!" I whimpered and pleaded like a kicked puppy. Axel had nudged himself snuggly between my legs, his working hand showing no signs of heeding to my words. "sto-nnngh—s-shit!"

The back of my head hit the dirty cement floor and my arms flew up to wrap around the redhead's neck when a warm hand began rubbing the front of my pants. Another whimper slipped passed my bruised lips before I could stop it, and I cursed myself for bucking up into the touch. Then his fingers squeezed. "Oh god—"

"Hmm, close, but my name is Axel, babe," Axel laughed quietly, taking in the embarrassing sex-face I must have on at the moment. "Try again, and say the right name this time, Roxy."

"No, no I—" Oh, I hate him and his hand. Why the bloody _shit_ does his hand have to work like goddamn magic? No, the better question is: why, _why_ does my body react? My hip was jerking, head was falling right and left on my neck like how a rag doll would, and my fingers were crawling, _scraping. _I felt his warm palm begin kneading the bump beneath my slacks, his long fingers scratching gently across my treacherous muscle. "Haa-aa-Axel, I—"

"Like it?" He teased, his hand dancing around on my private.

I didn't say anything, but I heard a weak sound slip my mouth again before the skin of his soft lips pressed roughly against mine. My hands tightened again in his hair, and I heard him give an appreciative groan when my fingers tugged. Then I willingly opened my mouth to his tongue.

This is exactly what pisses me off. I tell myself I _tried_ to fight off this beast, I tell that to myself so many goddamn times, and yet, I fail to believe it at the end of the day. And it always repeats, no matter what. Why the hell does it have to be so easy for him? For myself? I thought people learn from their mistakes? Learn to stand up when they fall? Now, all I see myself doing is falling, and not being able to get back up from the ground.

Then again, it might be the fact that this sexual redhead always has me pinned by the shoulders. And a part of me doesn't want to get off from the dirty floor. It was also the same part of me that was desperately rubbing up against a moving hand.

I heard the faint chatter of my fly being pulled down, and everything came back to hit me with two by fours. I heard the sky rumble, I heard the rain splattering over the wet concrete, and the stifling hot atmosphere that I had dove into was immediately pushed away by the onslaught of cold moist air.

"G-get off of me!" I didn't try to hide the cracked helplessness that lined my hitching voice. I grabbed his shoulders and rolled him over to the side, his shoulder smacking onto the floor. I scrambled to get out of his reach, pulling my fly back up and fleeing from the reckless scene. I had completely forgotten about my water bottle, but I wasn't about to head back.

It wasn't until I staggered into the empty, echoic stairwell did I realize my breaths were leaving me in harsh, ragged noises. I tiredly wiped my blushing face with my clammy hand, listening to the sex-tinted huffs of breath bounce off the foreboding walls as I struggled to descend flights of stairs with a nuisance tent pole in my pants.

After walking down three flights, I released the railing and leaned against the wall. My knees felt like fucking jelly, and my crotch was twitching with neglect. I felt so disgusted. Several grunts afterwards, my cold hands managed to shove the hem of my shirt back under my pants.

I reached up with my left hand, raking my trembling fingers through my cold hair. I felt several strands catch underneath my silver wedding band, and I felt a stab of guilt plunge right into my chest, making it so very hard to breathe. I wiped my face again, surprised to see that my cheeks were wet, trails of moisture running down my pale face—most likely from the rain.

I heard a door clatter open several flights above, and I forced myself off the wall, almost jumping down another flight before savagely tearing the barricading door that separated me from my work floor. I hobbled down the carpet lanes. I slowed down near the washroom, deciding what to do with the happy campers that had settled down in my pants.

It was the first time I had decided to call him off before he finished me. And now I'm stuck with his problem. Just great.

The better part of me decided to take my skinny legs back to my office and leave my predicament alone. It also told me to lock myself in there for the rest of the day and wait for Saïx's damned reports.

So I did.

* * *

When five o'clock rolled around, I was waiting anxiously for the reports to come in. The earlier they get here, the earlier I get to clock out and go home. The tip of my ball-point pen scraped noisily on the pieces of paper beneath it as my hands worked in a quick fluid motion. My eyes started to droop. Then I realized that I haven't had my coffee all day.

I got out of my seat, walking out of my personal office (this time with no hindering muscle to obscure my motions) and into the half-empty savannah of remaining workers who were busy typing, phoning, and talking from their cubicles. The lucky few were just getting up and getting ready to clock out. I scurried into the coffee just at the opposite end of the large room. I peeked in, hoping to see an absence of red-hair. When the coast was decidedly clear, I walked in, a casual look playing on my worn-out body.

"Hey Roxas! How're you doing, little dude?" I continued my path towards the black coffee machine, giving a quick glance at the Mohawk sporting individual sitting at one of the tables with a newspaper in his hands.

"Nothin'" I answered casually, with a swift shrug of my shoulders. I reached up into the cabinets, pulling out a white coffee mug from the shelf. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothin'" He mimicked me, down to the carefree shrug. "Getting ready to head on home and sleeeep the evening away."

I took the pot full of steaming black coffee from the machine's hold, pouring the dark satin liquid into the mug. I laughed. "Heh, If only I could say that as easily as you, Demyx."

There was a rustle of paper. "Huh? Waddya mean? I thought you were off at five today, Rox."

"So did I," I answered, replacing the half-empty pot into its niche. I sidestepped towards the large try holding packets of sugar and two large silver thermos of milk and cream, "'cept Xemnas got on my case for being late today and decided to punish me with extra reports."

"Ouch, man, and on a Friday too." Demyx hissed. It was like he could feel my pain. Too bad he only caught the frothy layer of my misery mocha.

"It's the thirteenth." I reminded with a grimace.

"Aw, you don't really believe in that kinda oogie-boogie do ya, Rox?" Demyx snorted, and I felt something inside me twitch with an ache.

"If only you knew how my day has gone so far," I replied with a hurt edge, "Just isn't my day."

"That sucks." Well, no duh it sucks. It's really too bad I don't feel like sharing the details. Wait, are my eyes burning again…?

"So how's Nam doing?"

"She's fine." I said monotonously, clearing my throat. My hands shook the two packets of sugar between my fingers before ripping the little bags at the corner.

"Oh, that's good to hear. How long has it been now?"

"Just a bit under a year."

"Cool! Congratulations man! She's a prize, that girl. Seems like just yesterday you came in and announced you were engaged." He ended his sentence off with a theatrical sigh. I held my breath.

"Yeah, seems just like yesterday, eh?" I forced a smile, letting a hand grip onto the handle of the milk thermos and lift it out of the tray.

If only. If only I could go back in time and live the normal life again.

"Yeah. Maaan, I remember that day so damn well. I could even recall the color of my underwear that I was wearing, it's such an exciting event—okay maybe not, but man!" I felt my skin jump when Demyx suddenly smacked both palms on the table. Must he be this…perky? "You had like, _the_ biggest grin on your face, you know that? It was like you just stepped out from a fairy tale, or something, iunno. I mean, you even went out half way through the day and got everyone on our floor boxes of ice cream." The male was standing up now. It wasn't until I turned to look at him did I realize he was sporting the biggest, happiest grin I've ever seen. "You're one lucky kid, y'know that?"

"Yeah, I'm so lucky." I swallowed thickly. "She's so...caring, so sweet. And she's so beautiful. Her blonde hair, her bright blue eyes. She's always there when I need her. And she's always feeding me so much food 'cause she thinks I don't eat enough. You know, once she made me a stack of a two dozen blueberry pancakes after she found out from my brother that I was a sucker for blueberries? She even made me a blueberry smoothie. Then she cut back because I started getting indigestion from eating so much." I laughed softly. I found myself staring out blankly into space, into the wall, reminiscing. I let my gaze fall onto the body listening to me, who was sporting a love-sick smile on his glowing visage. I turned away, focusing my attention to the counter top beside me. "She…Naminé…she loves me so damn much. Sometimes…I think that she deserves so much better than me. I'm not…" A lump formed in my throat. I jumped when a nearby door slammed shut, almost spilling my cup of coffee.

"Aw, don't say that! I totally know you—you're like, one of the most lovable guys I know. You'd so make _her_ a stack of two dozen pancakes—if you knew how to cook. I know _that_ hideous side of you." He laughed at his own joke. I cracked a smile. "Nah, you wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone the love of your life, ha ha ha!"

I wanted to tell him to stop praising me, to stop showering me with the lies he only sees as the truth. It was my fault that he's telling me what he thinks I want to hear. It's because I hide every shitting thing. One day, that's all it took to turn who I was around, who I was as a husband—completely around. It dragged on for four months. Unbeknownst to my friend here, I've been secretly hurting the two of us, lying, cheating on my wife for the past four months. And no one suspects a thing. Everything is still going on like nothing was wrong. Everyone was still smiling.

"You totally deserve her—no one else does. I mean—Roxas! She's your pretty little wife—"

"I'm going back to the office. See you, Demyx." I grumbled bitterly, slamming the door as I made my way out.

The floor was almost empty now, save for the unfortunate few who were behind in their work. I did a double-take when I saw a familiar male with blue hair standing near my office. Shit. I had forgotten about Saïx.

I sped up my walking, weaving through the corridors between cubicles towards my office.

"Mr. Luna, I'm so sorry for—" I let out an undignified yelp when my coffee leapt out from the mug in my hands and onto my dress shirt. Oh yeah, that's exactly what I need to top today off. A fucking first-degree burn.

"Oh, geez, sorry about that, Roxas—I didn't see you there." I looked up, fury surging through my veins. The bloodlust sensation was short-lived though, when I realized it was Lexaeus who was looking down at me with furrowed eyes. Nope. Far too tall and burly for an ass-kicking.

"It's…okay." I managed, tenderly peeling the soaked shirt away from my scalding chest. Damn thing. And it was my favorite dress shirt too. "I have to go home soon anyway."

The tall brunette offered an apology once again before excusing himself. I looked at Saix, who was standing patiently at my door, wearing a condescending grin on his face. I growled.

"Not too soon, I hope, Mr. Laight." He sneered, handing me three rather thick manila tag folders stuffed with papers. "Mr. Néant expects these to be ready by tomorrow morning, signed, bound together, and filed into his cabinet by eleven. Understood?"

"Yes sir." I grumbled, taking all three folders into my empty hand, while the other still held the sticky cup of coffee.

"Good. Oh, and Mr. Laight, you're also responsible for notifying the janitor to clean up this spill of yours. Better yet, clean it up yourself." He leered, walking passed me with a slight flick of his long blue hair. I hammered down the desire to chuck the rest of the hot drink into his face. No! Bad Roxas, no coffee mug throwing—not at the one person who's screwing with your boss _and_ responsible for your paycheck.

"Yes. Sir." I forced, fumbling with the door handle to my door. I made sure to give it the most enthusiastic slam once I was inside. _All in the name of work_.

I dropped the three folders onto my desk, carefully wiping away any drops of coffee from the sides and bottom of the mug before placing it down onto the olive-edged desk cover. I released a sigh, peeling off my jacket and standing dumbly to admire my stained dress shirt. The blue tie Naminé had bought me for my birthday was spotted as well.

I want to tear this goddamn place apart.

* * *

It was ten to seven when I looked up from my desk. My eyes were sore and dry from reading and writing, labeling and tabbing. I put the black pen down and rubbed my eyes. I stared at the lonely coffee mug sitting at the corner of my desk. I had forgotten about it again. Looping two fingers through the ear, I lifted the cup from the desk to my lips.

Ah, well, shit. Hour-stale coffee. What a treat. Tastes like piss with sugar.

My face contorted into a disgusted scowl, quickly placing it back to its original place.

The wind howled from the outside, rain pattering loudly on my window. The thunderstorm didn't let up yet. It was going to be such a pain in the ass to get home.

I sighed, and looked over my desk, fiddling around with my wedding band on my left hand. My eyes rested on the quaint picture frame showing off a photograph of me and Naminé at Disneyland. It was taken two years ago. I don't know what the hell was up with my hair then, but she still looks as beautiful as ever. It was the first vacation she and I took together. We had so much fun, all that time spent together waiting in line for the rides, holding onto each other when we dove down the roller coaster, eating sno-cones in the bright sunlight. We were so happy. She was so happy.

I turned away from the photograph and sighed, sitting back up to look over my work desk.

All two of three reports were finally past inspection, and I was that much closer to going _home_, where there is dinner, a comfy bed, where it is safe from the foul stench of Friday the thirteenth. Well, maybe. All that's left to do is finishing off and signing the last report.

I pulled out the remaining package of paper from the pale yellow folder, giving it brief flip-through.

_If all goes well, I can submit everything tonight and have the entire weekend with nothing to do. Sounds like a good idea._

I slapped pile of twenty or so pages onto my desk, picking up my black in my eager hand while scanning the papers for any mistakes or missed tabs.

After a few areas requiring a film of liquid paper and rewriting, I declared the day over.

That was, of course, before my pen decided to run out of ink on me.

"Oh for the love of God, not you too—" I shook the pen violently, scrawling on a spare scrap of paper to force the ink out. When a jet black line emerged from the tip, I felt a pang of relief. With a small grin, I let my hand write out my signature with utmost fluidity—

Large globs of jet black liquid exploded from the tip, making the white fibers of the paper bleed a hideous dark shade.

"SHIT!" Ink spots splashed over the sheet, some onto the desk cover as well. I dropped the pen, quickly wiping my stained fingers and feverishly trying to dab up the excess liquid on the page. "Oh God! Why now, WHY ME!"

BOOM.

I gave a loud screech when a particularly loud thunder shook my ears, and the lights flicking off.

"Damn. It." I turned around and peered out my window. Several buildings in the area were pitch dark. Slowly, I saw the back up lights light up in the building across from the one I was standing in. The back up generator began humming, and the backup lights outside my room flicked on.

Just for kicks, I tried turning on the lamp on my table. Nada. Giving a long exhale, I returned to cleaning and scrubbing up the wet mess of splattered ink on my desk.

This time, I didn't know if it was me being overly clumsy, or Fate, once again, trying to beat me with a morning-star, but the desk cover shifted from the desk surface, knocking over my pen holder. I growled, stomping to the other side of my desk to pick up the scattered pens and holder off the ground. Wait a sec, what the hell was that dripping…?

"No! NO! NONONONONOOOO!" I slammed the pens and pen holder onto the desk, my only focus was on the upset coffee mug. The contents had spilled all over the desk, soaking into my report. The black ink blots started to diffuse into the wet fiber. I felt my entire heart burst.

"No…" I sobbed, grabbing for more tissue. This time, I wasn't sure if it was for the spilled coffee, or for the goddamn sting that was ringing in my eyes.

I picked up the package of wet paper, the corners drooping and the text wet and illegible.

All I needed to do was sign it, and I could go home. Just a simple signature, and I could have gotten the hell out of here without a care in the world. It was like having your ticket to freedom snatched right out of your hands.

I. Hate. Today. SO much. I choked, attempting to clean up the mess on my desk with balls of tissue. The coffee was going to stain my desk, carpet and cover. Fantastic.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse,

**He **walked in.

"Evening, Roxy." I froze in my place, eyes wide and staring into my desk. I felt so numb—I couldn't even feel the soaked up coffee begin to slick up my hand from the soggy tissue.

I heard the door click shut and ominous footsteps head my way. It felt like I just invited in the Grim Reaper.

"What…are you still doing here?" I whispered, dropping the balls of wet tissue into the garbage can.

"I heard you scream from outside." Axel replied coolly, stopping once he's reached my desk.

I took a swallow. Play it cool, Roxas, play it cool. "Well, I was just startled from the lights, that's all."

He leaned against my desk, eyeing me with his glowing eyes. Then he examined the package of wet paper that was gripped between my fingers. He took it from my hands, and looked it over in the dim light that shone in from my window. I saw several small circles of coffee flick off the corners. "You really are having a bad day, aren't you?"

I let out a cold laugh. "Like you'd care."

I heard the papers clatter to the floor, and just like that, he had me caged between him and the edge of my desk.

"Of course I care. I told you, I can make it better for you." He growled. Even in the dim light, I could make out his predatory shine in his eyes.

"I don't need you to. Just get off of me." I frowned, my hand pushing against his shoulder.

"I know why you're so pissy today. It's because we didn't quite finish during lunch time." He purred, taking my shoulders and pushing me not-so-gently onto the desktop. My back began to slick up with remaining coffee seeping into my shirt.

"N-no! You're part of the problem, Axel!" I shout, my blood racing.

"What problem? You need me, Roxas." He mocked, maneuvering himself over me.

I choked back a sob. "Axel _please_, we have to stop this now!"

This was it. I couldn't go on any further with this gig.

"Axel—I'm _married_ for fuck's sake! I have a wife! A family! A home! A fucking wedding ring, Axel, I have it _all_! _**I don't need you!**_"

Something snapped inside me as I looked straight up into questioning green eyes. Something flickered within them, like anger and confusion.

"I don't know who the fuck you're trying to fool." Axel growled, his grip tightening on my pinned shoulders. "Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself? You know you're in too deep already, so why can't you just accept it?"

"I—"

"Are you really going to go home to your 'wife' and be truthfully honest with her? After four months of being a lying worm, are you going to go home, and bring up the subject of fooling around with a _guy_ at the dinner table, huh, Roxas? You're way in over your head, Rox. If you wanted this to stop, you should have done something that day."

That was what I am now, was it? A lying worm. I felt my heart rip to shreds. That one fateful day…

"Why did you do it?" I whispered. I couldn't feel my lower body anymore. The desk edge was biting into my lower back, my legs dangling uselessly over the edge. "Why the bloody shit did you do it, Axel, _why_!"

"Because I wanted you, so badly."

I looked up at him. His gaze burned into mine. I could make out the fair features of his face in the dim light. A hot, monstrous wave of heat clawed its way up my neck and into my cheeks. My eyes felt like they were going to pop right out of their sockets.

"You…You sick—YOU DECIDED TO JEOPARDIZE OUR FRIENDSHIP BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T CONTROL YOUR LIBIDO?" I screamed. The more I struggled, the more I hated this man. This man I called my friend.

"I didn't jep—"

"WHEN, for god's sake, did I EVER display to you feelings beyond a platonic friendship, Axel, WHEN? I was wearing my wedding ring Axel, every motherfucking second you were with me, _I had my ring on._"

"That doesn't change the fact that _you didn't do anything to stop me_." He hissed venomously. I stopped my struggling, taking in what he just said. "Yes, fine, it was **my** fault that this started, but you know what? It was _you_ who let it draw out, Roxas. _You_. You could have told me off, reported my sorry ass for sexual harassment, and get on with your life, but no, you didn't; you let it drag on, and on, and on, for four months. And during that time, I found your presence insatiable. I wanted you, more and more, every single crapass day, because you're so goddamn _beautiful and perfect,_ you little shit!"

Well, goddamn, when did someone start lighting fires behind my eyes?

"When you didn't do anything to push me away, I took it as an okay. I took it as a "Yes, I want more of this". Why did I think such stupid, _delirious_ thoughts? It's because in my head, every single bloody day, I imagine you beneath me, screaming my name, telling me you wanted more, that you didn't want it to end. Do you know how much I wanted you, Roxas? I wanted to be with you so much, so much I forced out this charade, so much I made the friend I had a liar, a cheater, so much that I threw away the smidge of morals I had and turned into a lecherous sneak, so much that I didn't _stop it myself because I realized I was jealous._

I wanted to have you so_ badly_, Roxas. Every goddamn day, I go home, tired, sweaty, exhausted, and pissed off to high heaven because I don't have you beside me, so…so _outraged _because you always went home to your _wife_, and not with _me_. I could never call you_ mine_, so I just entered this-this perverted, shit-faced state of mind, doing things to you so I could _believe that you were mine to hold, touch and kiss_."

My eyes snapped open, something hammering down on my chest, just over my heart. It hurt so much.

"So answer me this, Roxas," he growled my name, and the atmosphere shook when a thick boom of thunder rang throughout the area, "why didn't you stop me, all those times we were fooling around? You led me on, you led the both of us on for so long. Were you just—playing with me? Stringing me along? When I flirted with you, you flirted back. If you didn't want it, any of it, _why didn't you stop me_?"

I couldn't answer. I didn't want to answer, because I didn't want to admit it to myself. It all happened so fast—way to fast for me to catch it.

After that day in the washroom, I entered a different work-style: getting up, making a thick red 'X' mark on the calendar, going to work, fooling around with Axel, going home, keeping my day a secret, go to bed. The red 'X's were scrawled so carelessly over my calendar, marking the days I've settled in this new routine. So far, it's been months.

I never told Naminé what I was going through. I was too scared, so goddamn scared. For three years, I had her at my side, falling in love in college and getting married after graduation. I wanted that love to last. I wanted the feeling of being significant to someone to last all my life. So I never told her; I didn't want to hurt her with my affair. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, because now, it's drawn out for four months, and she still doesn't know. But I knew. So aware of the cruelty I was putting her though—it was like a horrible pastime. It's like me playing a sick game of hide-and-seek, leaving Naminé to hide, so blissfully unaware that I had already stopped playing and was out looking for another game to play. It was like seeing just how long she could hide for before she realizes that I wasn't coming back to find her.

What scared me even more was the warmth and enjoyment I felt when I was with Axel. When he pinned me against the wall and slapped his mouth over mine, I didn't defend myself or push him away. I found my hands roaming over his dress shirt, his lanky arms, and around his neck, pulling out the hair tie that held his hair captive. I knew full well that what we were doing was sick, and just so fucking wrong, but I didn't stop it. I couldn't bring myself to stop it because I _liked_ it. I liked the way he touched me, I liked the way he murmured my name, and I _liked the way I responded back_.

People kept telling me how lucky I was to "snag a girl like Naminé". And I felt horrible. They kept complimenting me, giving me their kudos and sincere congrats, while the only thing I could do was start to feel guilty for letting them believe I was this nice, devoted man.

So wrong, it was so wrong. When I finally decided, after two weeks of sneaking behind Nam's back, I had to stop it, Axel's seductive methods just seemed to grow in persistence. I remember trying to push him away, half-heartedly sticking a defiant look on my face, but he just pressed back harder. After that, I always went home telling myself that I _tried_. I tried so hard, but he's just stronger than me.

That was the excuse I made for myself. I never told myself it was me who let him overpower me. I pinned the blame on him, repeatedly telling myself that it was_his fault _that I could no longer kiss Naminé without thinking of his lips.

"I _tried._" I whispered. "I keep telling myself I _tried_."

"But…" Axel started, waiting for me to finish.

"It felt so _good_." I closed my eyes, my breaths coming in weak sobs. "The way you touch me felt so _good_, so goddamn good—and _right,_ but yet so bloody wrong. So wrong. I didn't say anything to anyone because I—I didn't want to acknowledge the fact that I was a cheating snake, lying to the woman I promised to spend my life with. I was so scared—I was scared for my life, because I'm so goddamn_ confused_ with why I wanted _more_." A bubbled choke broke midway through my sentence. I was growing so tired.

"You…I don't know what it is about you, but I wanted _more_ of what you gave me, Axel, so much, much more, and I didn't understand _why_."

I waited for a response, a twitch, a movement—anything. Hell, at that moment, even a kiss would suffice.

"Get off me, Axel." I begged quietly. "I don't…I don't think I could handle any more of my own lies."

"Roxas…" I gasped when a hand came to touch my face. My eyes shifted over to greens. They looked so confused, so frustrated, so _lonely_. "I want you so much, Roxas."

"I…want…" I choked back my words when his hands slithered over my neck, "we can't…keep this up. I can't…I can't hide this from Naminé any longer." I pleaded, tears glazing over my darkened blue eyes.

Axel moved himself between my weak legs.

"I—"

"Do you want this, Roxas?" He asked, lowering his face onto mine. Our lips brushed against one another with a tenderness I never thought I'd feel. "Do you want…this?"  
A whimper left my lips as his fingers undid my shirt buttons and slid inside, coasting over my shivering, coffee-clammy chest.

"Axel…"

"Roxas, don't lie to me." Axel demanded, sliding his hand over my open shirt. "Do you want this?" His lips—his lips were so warm, so intensely warm on my clavicles, sternum, navel. Why did he feel so warm when I was shivering as if I were lost wandering in a Tundra?

The tears began to flow. I felt my temple go wet with salty tears. The way they slowly rolled down my cheeks—I was so frightened.

"I don't deserve her." I sobbed, the garbled words sounding rather unfamiliar to me. "I don't deserve _you_. I don't deserve anyone. I'm just a lying, selfish, desperate _nobody_."

"You're someone, Roxas. To me, you're everything." Axel cooed, delicately stroking my hair as his other hand made its way down my quivering frame. "I love you, so goddamn much it scares me."

I barely caught the last few words when his hand unzipped my pants and slid inside, longer fingers wrapping around my member. A heat began boiling in the pit of my stomach, electric tingles tapdancing from my finger tips and toes and soaring straight to my abdomen.

The guy…loves me? I let out a shaky breath, my face still damp with mindless tears.

My hands found purchase in soft red hair. I looked up at him, my vision growing cloudy with every stroke he administered on my cock. I leaned myself up, pressing our lips desperately together.

"This—this just isn't my day." I whimpered, a giggled sob tearing through the office, before pulling him down on me. He's right. I've drowned, and was only sinking—

No. not sinking—I was diving.

"…I'm so sorry…"

A wave of neglect, a pounding of emptiness filled my abdomen when his hand ceased its movements, and left me. Everything felt cold and unfulfilled.

"Roxas, tell me, the _truth_. I'll…I'll listen, I'll goddamn _listen_ this time. Look at me."

So I did. I looked into those cat-like eyes. I could see them so perfectly clear in the stormy grey-washed room. They weren't murky with lust. Instead, they were replaced by two clear crystals of emerald. I could see right through them, and into the abyss of his thoughts. I suddenly felt dizzy.

"Do you want it?" So simple. And I only had to tell him the truth.

No more lies.

"No," I quickly grabbed his arms, anticipating the leave he'd take, "I don't want _it. _I want _you_."

My thoughts derailed when he took my face in his hands, and pressed a long kiss to my mouth. My heart grew hot, my stomach erupted with butterflies, and my lungs began to constrict with the breath that was just stolen from me. I felt another trail of tears leave the corners of my swollen eyes.

I kept my eyes closed when he pulled back, sighing when I felt his thumb brush the wet trails on my face.

His other hand went to slow work on my heaving chest, coasting over the planes of my skin with gentle strokes. I felt everything grow hot, his fingers leaving prickled sensations I couldn't get enough of on my skin.

Soft lips, warm tongue, touching my neck so carefully. I rolled my head to the side, giving him more room.

I felt my hips lift from the edge of the desk, held captive in his hands. My legs wrapped themselves around his thin hips, and I pulled him closer. Slowly, I felt his warm weight settle onto mine.

Stars began popping up beneath my eyelids, and I felt every muscle in my body writhe beneath his rocking hips, a fiery friction surging from between my legs as he crushed his pelvis on mine.

"R-Rox…" Axel. His voice…his voice was so...light, "Roxas, look at me." When I opened my eyes, I could see his moving frame gently sway over my own. My eyes were locked onto his. He continued to roll himself over me. It felt incredible.

"Y-yes?"

"I want—I want you to know—that—" my spine arched, my arms looping around his neck, "I love you. I _need _you. I do. I know—you d-don't—but I need you to know."

So hot, everything was so hot, like I just fell into a pool of lava. My heart, my eyes—everything was glowing in warm aura that only I could see.

"Axel…" I pulled him down, connecting our mouths, keeping our lips closed as our skin brushed against one another. "Please don't stop."

Soon, there was nothing barricading us. It was all that I could feel—skin, warm skin on mine, hot lips pressing all over, mine doing the same. I could only see him, nothing else. The world revolved around him and those cloudy green eyes. Naminé didn't enter my mind. She didn't have green eyes. I didn't even realize the photograph had fallen off the desk, didn't even hear the glass covering crack and splinter.

I didn't go home that night. I didn't phone Naminé either. I woke the next day in Axel's bed, his long arms tied around my waist.

A week later, the ring came off. That day was the last day I looked into a pair of azure eyes, glistening with collected pain. It hurt, but one thing was for sure—everything was reflections of the truth.

No more lies.

The red 'X's continued to scrawl over the calendar, hanging from Axel's bedroom wall. The morning light that spilled in from the window always brightened the face of the calendar—the rain spell was over. Looks like things were clearing up.

It was another day in my new cycle of red. Pure red.

--oOo--


End file.
